David Park Barnitz

“ A dead corpse full of wormy questionings,
Beneath the open sky my soul lies dead,
Shameless and rotten and unburied,
For whom eternity no difference brings.
Only the wind my loathed incense flings
Afar afar; only above my head
Day passes, night returns when day is fled,
Unchangeable return of changeless things.
Unto the dead all things bring only pain,
And evermore my perish'd heart is woe
For the vile worms that gnaw it lying low;
While the dead days, like to an endless chain,
Pass ever o'er my body cruelly slow,
And evermore with pain return again. ”

“ Where the sun is.
2nd Corpse.
O foolish ragged-bones,
Wouldst thou show forth thy dripping excrements,
And shredded rottenness to the face of day?—
Stink and be still, and leave us here in peace.
1st Corpse.
Envy me not, O stench, slop-face, dung-eyes;
My bones are clean and dry as the tomb's walls,
And stink not; as for thee, thou art a sink.
2nd Corpse.
Envy me not, thou, that I am so sweet
The black worms love me; hungry were that worm
That on thee preys.
4th Corpse.
Be silent, both ye dead and rotten things ”

“ Lo, all the world as some vast corpse long dead,
Fadeth and perisheth and doth decay,
Even as a corpse, in whose unhonor'd clay
The worms have long the inmost secrets read;
Even as a corpse, upon whose lowly head
The sun beats, and the holy rain doth play;
Even as a corpse, whereof the people say,
—We would that these dead bones were buried.
Even so: and in the earth's vast sepulchre
Our fainting souls their doubtful footsteps bear,
Dreaming of that which no dead men may see ”

“ And in its flesh lie sleeping worms uproll'd.
They that pass ceaseless by see not at all;
They know not that beneath its garments' fold
Is but a corpse, rotted, and dead, and tall.
He is accurst that sees it dead and old;
He is accurst that sees: the white worms call
For him: for him have funeral dirges toll'd.
MANKIND
They do not know that they are wholly dead,
Nor that their bodies are to the worm given o'er
They pass beneath the sky forevermore;
With their dead flesh the earth is cumbered. ”

“ Nay, nay, thy limbs are rotten on the floor;
Thou shalt not out from thy polluted sty;
Thou wouldst become divinity once more,
Thou dreamest of splendour that shall never die
And in thy heart the worms lie evermore.
IV
I saw a dead corpse lying on the floor
Of a tomb; worms were in its woman's head,
Its black flesh lay about it shred on shred,
And the dead things slept in its bosom hoar. ”

“ And thou, Zulaihka, dost, in rest too deep for dream,
Like one enchanted seem;
Thy beauty now in waking slumber sunken sleepeth,
And dreaming past thy wholly closed eyelids creepeth
The sleepy-flowing stream.
Thou hast the light of Asia in thy face divinest,
And in thy scented mouth and in thy lotus-eyes,
O wine of Paradise!
O moon-fac'd love that by the sacred stream reclinest,
Hath this world anything for which in vain thou pinest? ”

“ Sunk in her golden swoon
Forevermore.
SONNET OF BURIAL
Now that the earth thy buried corpse doth hold,
Now that thy soul that hath so much desired,
Is gone down to the places of the tired,
Far from the dawning and the star-light cold;
Thine eyes shall not again the sun behold;
Now shall thy body that all men hath fired
Have ceasing, and thy grave shall be admired,
That doth the fairest thing o' the earth enfold. ”

“ And I shall grow accustom'd to the worms.
5th Corpse.
Rejoice not thou, that thou art fallen
Into a pit where people leave their dung;
There is no reason here for any joy.
Sepulchre.
Be silent, now, ye spindle-shankèd dead!
Ye will learn to be silent when y'are here
For a long time; ye always spout and roar,
At first, before the time of rottenness;
But so I suppose it must be,—y'are not the first,
And ye shall not be the last; so fast i' the world,
So eagerly they are begotten, and they die,
And they are begotten again ”

“ And do the things that they have done before;
And yet their hearts are rotten to the core,
And from their eyes the light of life is fled.
Surely the sun is weary of their breath;
They have no ears, and they are dumb and blind;
Long time their bodies hunger for the grave.
How long, O God, shall these dead corpses rave?
When shall the earth be clean of humankind?
When shall the sky cease to behold this death?
THE DEFILERS
O endless idiocy of humankind!
O blatant dead that howl and scream and roar!
O strange dead things the worms have gambled for! ”

“ And the worms' gnawing, and thy body's rottenness,
And the rottenness in thy bones and in thy brain!
1st Corpse.
O beautiful, O dead, O spit upon,
He speaketh well that is but lately dead;
Thy flesh lies all along thee like green slime,
O pudding gravied in thine own dead sauce!
2nd Corpse.
Rotten one!
1st Corpse.
Dung-heap!
2nd Corpse.
Dead one!
1st Corpse.
Beast! beast! beast!
Therefore perhaps, thou art so early dead?
2nd Corpse.
They say that those thou lovedst were not men,
O goat-face—Shall I say what was thy death?
4th Corpse. ”

“ Thou art musk, frankincense, amomum, stephanotis,
Thou art the fragrant wine, the paradisal lotus,
Thou art the opium.
Hashsheesh nor opium are worth not thy caresses,
Sweeter than opium to still the spirit's drouth
Thine unassuaged mouth;
Him that hath known thy love no mortal grief distresses;
Sweeter thy kisses are than incense which oppresses
The breezes of the South.... ”

“ Khaled, come, come, and slowly move the scented
Gold narghilé away; let the lyres cease.
And now a little peace!
For see, moon-faced Leila hath repented
Of singing Hafiz' songs melodiously,
And languidly.
Surely all things are vain, and great thanksgiving
Is due not; surely all things now are vain;
And all my heart is fain
Of something, something, far too great for living;
Nothing is very sad, nor wonderful,
Nor beautiful. ”

“ With henna-tinted feet, and almond eyes that dream,
Put down the opium-pipe of jade and ivory,
For she that is most fair is fain to hear thy song:
Awake, O Muse, and sing her praises solemnly,
That to the laughing heart of California
Hath added all the grace of France and Italy;
She who, to put to sleep my pitiless ennuis
Is come from distant Paris and from Varsovie;
Athens is in her heart, and Paris in her eyes,
Dear European angel from beyond the sea!
—There is no use to sing; she is not to be sung ”

“ My heart knew not why these so loudly bawl;
And some stood round with faces that implore,
Asking for peace; and ever those that gave
Did but like these delude themselves the more;
But rottenness shall stop all these that rave. ”

“ There is no one that sees and none that hears;
I shall not out from my corrupted cave.
Here now forever with the lustful worms
I lie within my putrid sunken sty,
And through eternity my soul shall die.
O thou toward whom all my dead spirit squirms!
Forevermore I love thee through all terms
Until the dead stars rot in the black sky.
MUMMY
Thou art at last made perfect ”

“ And thou art gone to slumber with the blessed,
Thy buried body shall be no more distressed;
Being now number'd with the placid dead,
Thine eyes forever more have ceas'd from weeping,
For evermore thy spirit shall have sleeping. ”

“ And in my heart the worms have their abode.
Lo, from my body all my might is fled,
And all the light is gone out of mine eyes;
Mine ears hear only lamentable cries,.
And eyeless things stand round about my head;
I am made as a man that slowly dies;
I am made as a man already dead. ”

“ Far off lies that dream'd-of country
Eternally fair and blessed
Eternally undistressed,
Far over the ocean blue.
Knowst thou the land, beloved?
Year-long with gentle motion
There the unending ocean
Batheth the tropic shore;
There never storms blow loudly,
There never wet rain falleth,
There never loud wind calleth,
Nor stormy waters roar.
Fairer the stars that lighten
There, than to us is given,
There in a fairer heaven
Shineth a larger moon;
Fair stand the castles golden
There, and o'er stranger flowers
There through the long long hours
The wandering breezes swoon. ”

“ No ears, no nose, no eyeballs; Death is Death;
The sepulchre, no sight, no sound, no cry,
And always; Death is Death; the worms! the worms
VI
Not for your evil is my spirit sad—
I mourn because you are not really bad ”

“ Lo, I am easily bor'd, I am easily tired and made weary;
Now at the last I am weary of Woe.
Lo, I that walk in the flower crown'd season of youthfulness golden,
Think ye that all things my gladness can slay?
Sorrow is fitting for dotards and them that are loathsome and olden;
I am as one that goes ever away.
Lo, I laugh out at Grief, lo, I laugh in unending rejoicing,
I that have nightshade entwin'd in my hair ”

“ I am a little bor'd with everything.
Past the clos'd jalousies the mlengkas go;
They are not beautiful; no Greek they know;
They go about and howl and make a fuss;
I gaze through sâd-shap'd eyelids languorous,
Far off from Ispahân where roses blow.
Professors sit on lofty stools upcurl'd,
Through Yankee noses drooling all day long;
I find all these things quite ridiculous.
Before despis'd old age comes over us,
Let us step into the great world ere long.
We shall be very grand in the great world! ”

“ Crown you with nightshade, and once more with me
Drink and make merry; farewell! I am here with you now; on the morrow
Sail I over the mighty sea.
Postlude SONG OF INDIA
Now at the last, Zulaikha, all my sorrows olden
Are farther off than Europe or than China seem,
And like an idle dream
The North is faded far off in the distance golden ”

“ Though of all my life dear Lili make a gay dégringolade,
Yet to my ennuis doth Lili sing an endless lullaby;
We are Greeks and we are Tartars, we know all the languages,
To the girls of Persia, India, China, we know how to sigh;
If the heartless heart of Lili tediously cruel prove,
Go and dance the tarantella with the girls of Hôkusai!
In the golden-citied world from Paris unto Tokiô
We are quite at home, we saunter languidly through tall Shanghai;
Chairete! the shaw of rosy Persia is a gentleman,
Charming people in Benares where the Ganges loiters by ”